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I run down the stairs—Lola running after me barking happily—yelling at my parents, who are somewhere downstairs: “I'll get it. It's for me!”

In my mind, I know it’s inevitable for my parents to meet Derek. He'll be in my house working on this stupid project for a while. They are home, so of course they'll want to meet him. If we want to stay downstairs, where it's safe and nothing unplanned like touching or you-know-what-else can happen, they'll see him. It's not like he's a ghost or my imaginary friend so I can’t hide him from my family.

“Who is it, Lia?” Mom calls from the kitchen where pots and pans bang against each other. “Your project partner's here?”

“Yeah, Mom,” I reply and hurry to open the door before he rings the bell again. Slightly panting from hurrying down, I try to avoid my silly dog that’s getting under my feet and turn the doorknob.

He's standing there, on my front porch, looking as casual and as handsome as ever. If we don’t count the ugly, purple bruise that occupies a better half of his left cheek.

His hands are buried in the pockets of his dark blue sweatpants, and he's wearing a white hoodie with the blue wolf—the hockey team's mascot—on the front, with a backpack casually tossed over his wide shoulder. His honey hair is darker than before, probably because he just took a shower after practice and, like most guys, was too lazy to dry it before leaving.

Derek looks around, but as soon as the door starts to open, his attention snaps right back to the door.

Almost shyly, I peep through the gap I made and look at him. We don't say anything but simply look at each other. His blue eyes wander down my body, taking in my lazy-in-the-house-look. That's what Brook and I call it, and it includes leggings, furry socks because I hate slippers, and some shirt or hoody with one of my fandoms. Today it’s a Harry Potter one.

He chuckles lightly. I’m not sure at what. My shirt? My socks or maybe bun at the top of my head? My hair was getting in the way when I got home, so I tied it up and completely forgot to take it off before I came crashing down the stairs to let him in. Or maybe he simply laughs at me? Because I'm ... well, me.

Heat starts rising in my cheeks, and I will it to stop, but no such luck. I hate this. I hate the way he always makes me so flustered and clumsy. He doesn't even have to touch me and I’m falling apart but in those moments when he does it’s a hundred times worst. Complete and utter...

“-lia? Amelia?” Derek's voice brings me out of my thoughts, and I blush even harder.

“Yeah?”

“Will you let me inside?” This time he smiles for real, showing his straight white teeth and dimples in his cheeks. There is a little bit of light stubble on his cheeks and jaw. It's the first time I noticed it. It’s slightly darker than his hair color but still barely visible.

“Is it safe to come inside? Or is your dog going to bite me?”

“Oh, no. It’s safe. She’s just excited.” I laugh nervously.

“Lia? Where are you two?” Mom's voice breaks the spell around us. “Do you want something to drink or a snack before you get into it?”

I turn around and see her standing in the hallway with a towel in her hands. She tilts her head, making her ponytail swing with the motion, and looks at me strangely. “That's not your friend?”

“Ohh, no it is.”

“Why didn't you let her in?” She shakes her head at me, like I’m being silly, and comes closer.

The door behind me swings open, and I can feel his presence looming over me.

“You didn't tell your Mom we are doing this project together?” Derek asks me disbelievingly. His hand brushes against mine, making small tingles go down the path he touches as he extends it and offers it to my mother. “It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Campbell. I'm sorry for intruding so late, but practice took longer than usual to wrap up.”

“Amelia,” she starts and looks at me with a big smile on her face. “You should have told me who you are working this project with.”

“I thought I did,” I lie.

I know very well I didn't mention anything but murmur in passing about project and friend coming over to work on it together. She didn't ask more questions, and I didn't expand. If she knew a boy was coming, she would be all over me the last few days.

My Mom is girly kind of woman. Me? Not so much.

She can't believe I don't care about clothes or makeup and that I would much rather stay home and read a good book or watch a movie with Brook than go out to a party. She loves to come to me and talk about boys, but only the boys I talk about are my book boyfriends. I can already see what'll happen as soon as Derek leaves the house later tonight.

“Anyway, Mom, this is Derek. He's in my class, and we are doing this Spanish homework together.”

“Nice to meet you, Derek.” She beams at us. “You should go up to your room. I'm preparing dinner so the whole kitchen is messy...”

“We could go to the living...” I start but she interrupts me.

“And your Dad is watching the news in the living room so it's too noisy to have any work done,” she protests sweetly. So sweetly, I have a need to strangle her. She's doing it on purpose. “I'll go and grab you some soda and snacks from the kitchen and you can go upstairs to do your thing. I'll call you when dinner is ready.”

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